


Big Spook

by AliceMalefoy



Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Post-Canon, Post-Endgame, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-11
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-26 10:02:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19765906
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AliceMalefoy/pseuds/AliceMalefoy
Summary: Aged Up!Peter thinks he’s done well with leading a double life. He’s studying what he likes, he has his own place, he’s dating the girl he loves… but that doesn’t mean life is easy all the time. Even superheroes have bad days - and sometimes worse days.Does not take FFH into account. SPOILER FREE.





	1. Chapter 1

Any twenty-something will tell you that life is a rollercoaster. One minute you’re on top of the world, the next you’re plummeting down, plunging towards the cement ground at a hundred miles an hour with no means of pulling the breaks of your own demise.

But if you asked Peter Parker, twenty-four and currently balancing out a post-graduate and superhero life, it was far worse than that. The highs were higher – as high as space, actually – and the lows were…

Actually, he didn’t like to talk about the lows. They were the kinds of lows he sometimes couldn’t remember, and that said it all. He could deal with those, but it killed him to see the effect it had on (Y/N), the way she worried herself sick over his well-being.

They had been dating for a solid five years now, and lived together in a small, grimy apartment – the only thing they could afford – near NYU, where they both studied mechanical engineering. It was how they met, in freshman year, and slowly became permanent features in each other’s life.

(Y/N) was strong and steadfast, though she often gave the appearance of a delicate slip of a woman, Peter had discovered it was no were near her true self. He knew she could take whatever life threw at her, and that was why he didn’t push her away when things started becoming serious between them, and he realized it might one day put her in danger.

He had once told her she was like a river: calm and steady on the surface, but intense and full of life deep down. It had made her smile and she had called him silly, then kissed him. Peter loved the way she loved him, and he loved to love her too. It was easy, like second nature really. There was no fighting it, and to be honest, Peter didn’t even try because turning away from her radiant presence was the last thing he wanted. However, that didn’t mean that he could impose his alter ego to her.

Therefore, he had decided to tell her about his double life, to give her a chance to back out of their relationship if she decided it was too much. He never got the chance in the end, because the day he finally worked up the courage to talk to her was the first day he got seriously beat up by a villain since they started dating.

(Y/N) had found Peter in the alley next to her shared apartment, limping in the shadows and calling her name in a whisper. He had collapsed and lost consciousness before she could reach him.

That day became a turning point in both their lives, but not necessarily for the worst. (Y/N) had carried him – hell knows how – up to the fourth floor where she lived and smuggled him in her room without her roommates noticing anything, and she had tended to his wounds after establishing that he wasn’t in any life-threatening condition.

Peter woke up two days later, the morning sun hitting him in the face, his Spider-Man suit hanging on the back of a chair next to the bed he laid on. He recognized his surroundings immediately, sending his heart into a frenzy, but when he tried to stand up to leave, the pain knocked him down again and he fell back into the pile of pillows on (Y/N)’s bed with a grunt, the air sucked out of his lungs.

(Y/N) had burst into the room, an apron tied around her waist. When she saw him awake, tears welled up in her eyes and she blinked them away, one trembling hand covering her mouth.

“(Y/N),” Peter breathed out, still struggling to catch some air. “I can explain…”

She didn’t let him. Instead, she lurched forward and threw her arms around him, crying into the crook of his neck. She tried not to hold him too tightly, but the relief was too great to just stand there.

“You could have told me, Peter,” she sobbed against his skin. She had undressed him to dress his wounds, Peter realized. “I was so scared, so scared…”

Her entire body shook against his, and Peter could only wrap one arm around her while he supported himself with the other, but he too was relieved to see her. She knew the truth now, though he would rather she discovered it another way.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he apologized, planting a kiss on her temple. “I was going to tell you, I swear. This isn’t how you were supposed to find out.”

They held each other for hours, quietly crying and whispering sweet nothings, until (Y/N) was all out of tears and Peter’s stomach began to grumble. He hadn’t eaten in two days after all, and he was in dire need of a shower and a warm meal. He promised to tell her everything over breakfast, and after he made a quick stop at the bathroom while (Y/N) prepared some eggs and bacon, he came out of her room, limping but very much alive, wearing the spare clothes he always left at her place.

Those were the best scrambled eggs he had ever eaten.

*

Flash-forward three years, (Y/N) didn’t have to drag Peter’s limp body out of an alley and sneak him into her shared flat. A little over a year ago, when they graduated, they decided to try for a master’s degree too and moved in together.

It wasn’t much, they basically lived on top of each other, but it was theirs – and neither of them really minded having to live on top of each other. Peter liked to think that if Tony was still alive and saw where he lived, he would forcefully drag him out, have the entire building demolished for not respecting the most basic health standards, and buy him his own private penthouse overlooking central park on fifth avenue.

(Y/N) told Peter she would have personally overlooked the demolition, because this place was truly not sanitary in any way. Still, they made do, and after thoroughly cleaning, sweeping, scrubbing and swabbing, it started to look like a place human beings would live. It became their home.

Peter waited until dusk to go on his daily patrols, so no one would spy Spider-Man lurking around their living-place. The last thing he wanted was for someone bearing ill-intentions to lay a hand on (Y/N) while he was gone.

“I can see you vibrating from here,” (Y/N) commented with a giggle, looking up from her manual and momentarily stopping scribbling down notes.

She was sitting on the far end of the couch, legs tucked under her, while Peter was kneeling next to the window, already wearing his suit, though he still held his mask in his hand, and waiting for the moment the streetlights would turn on – his signal that it was dark enough to leave.

When she spoke up, Peter froze and realized his left leg had been hopping nervously, and he was fidgeting.

“Can’t help it,” he said with an apologetic glance. (Y/N) only smiled in return. He knew she had trouble focusing on her work whenever he was in the same room, being a nervous wreck about one thing or another. “I hope I can find him tonight, before he makes more victims.”

His gaze was trained on the streets down below, but he heard (Y/N) put down her pen and shut her book. A new villain had been terrorizing people around town, targeting small, family-owned businesses with no security, not even cameras. The police couldn’t find him because they had no idea who to look for, his identity remained a mystery, for all they knew he might not even work alone.

Peter had almost tracked him down last week, but he managed to escape in the night, and had kept popping here and there to do his misdeeds every night since. Peter felt responsible and grew antsy knowing he was still out there. The other reason why no one knew what he looked like was because he never left survivors. The victims were found in truly gruesome conditions.

Peter hadn’t seen for himself yet, but even the police reports sounded awful, and they always toned it down for the public and tried to keep everything objective. Reports talked about massacres. Blood everywhere.

“I know how much you want to catch him, Peter,” (Y/N) started, sighing deeply. She stood up and joined him by the window, putting a comforting hand on his shoulder to get his attention. “Please be very careful.” Her eyes glimmered with worry. “I don’t want to see your name in tomorrow’s headlines, understood?”

“I have to stop him, I’ll do whatever it takes,” he argued. “I should have caught him long ago, no one’s managed to elude me for so long. If only I knew how he always managed to disappear-“

“Peter!” (Y/N) cut him off. She knelt down to be at eye-level with him and took his chin between her fingers. “I’m afraid your eagerness will lead you to making a mistake. Be smart about this, don’t just rush into a fight and risk your life.”

“I risk my life every day, (Y/N), there’s nothing new about this,” he protested, shaking his head. “What’s the matter now? Why is this guy any different?”

“You know why,” she snapped, standing up again and crossing her arms. “I heard the reports too, Peter. You’re not the only one who can connect to the police frequency, I know what he did to those people. He’s a butcher.”

“Which is exactly why I need to stop him!” He didn’t see what (Y/N) expected him to do. “Who else is going to do it? The police are clueless, and I’m much stronger than them anyway.”

“But you’re not invincible!”

It came from a good place, but it wasn’t what he wanted to hear right now. Peter yanked his head back so (Y/N) would let go of him, and he turned away, making her sigh again. They rarely argued about anything, at least nothing of real importance. Sure they disagreed on stuff, like what movie to watch, whether to order Thai or Indian, what to get May for her birthday – but they always found common ground when it came to grave matters.

(Y/N) always knew that Peter Parker would be the death of her, even before finding out about his double life. From the very first time he had laughed at one of her idiotic science puns, she had known. During their first tutorial class, the teacher had paired the students randomly together, and they had never again changed partners since.

But having to watch him fly into the night, not knowing when, how, or if he was going to come back, was something (Y/N) never thought she would have to bear with. Most girls only had to worry about not being cheated on or keeping things spicy in the bedroom. (Y/N) had to worry about her boyfriend never coming home, about Peter going MIA. Each goodbye kiss could be the last, and she was aware of that, she made them all count.

But not tonight.

“I didn’t mean-“

“It’s time,” he said before she could go back on her words. She regretted them the moment they crossed her lips. The streetlights were on. “Don’t wait on me.”

And just like that, he jumped out of the window, disappearing out of sight. (Y/N) leaned on the frame to see him off but he didn’t turn back at all. She couldn’t remember the last time they parted ways on such bad terms.


	2. Chapter 2

Today was October 11thand it was a day like any other.

*

Peter was an open book to whoever knew how to read him. (Y/N) could see through him, he literally couldn’t hide anything from her if he tried. She knew what kind of OCD meant he lied, or hide something from her, or was nervous.

One thing she had learned over time, was that he usually switched to reversed psychology whenever he was mad. He would tell her she was the worst, that he hated her little quirks and habits, that he didn’t want to see her or talk to her, but she knew he meant the opposite.

So when Peter told her not to wait on him, she knew better than to obey. (Y/N) picked up her manual to finish her work, sitting on the same spot, in the same position as before, and she would stay like this until Peter came back.

She had closed the window now, before it was getting fresher and fresher every day, but it was unlocked so Peter could enter later. He tried to avoid walking around the building as Spider-Man, so the window was the best option. The fire escape allowed him to come back even if something happened and he couldn’t use his web shooters anymore.

She hoped he wouldn’t need to use it. Still, (Y/N) couldn’t just go to bed and pretend everything was fine. Therefore, she would wait.

A few hours later, (Y/N) opened her eyes, yawning and stretching. Shit. She had fallen asleep on the couch. No wonder, it had been a long day. A shiver ran down her spine and she hugged herself, rubbing her own arms to warm up. Why was it so cold in here? Had the heating system gone down again?

No. The window was open. Suddenly completely awake, (Y/N) shot up to her feet.

“Peter?” she called, meeting nothing but silence, only disrupted by the distant police sirens blending in the background noise, and the chatter of people walking in the street.

A thousand thoughts assailed her mind. What time was it? How long had she slept? Was Peter back? But if it was Peter who opened the window, why didn’t he close it afterwards? Why didn’t he wake her up? He usually let her know she was back or carried her to bed. If it wasn't Peter, then who? A burglar? Would a burglar sneak into their apartment even though she was sleeping right there on the couch? None of these questions found answers except for the first one.

Her eyes glanced at the microwave clock. It was half past one. No wonder it was pitch black outside.

“Peter?” (Y/N) called again, a bit louder this time.

If it was a burglar, maybe he would leave through another window, for fear of being caught red handed. (Y/N) hoped so, because she couldn’t fight. She wasn’t a fighter in the literally sense. Peter and her had briefly discussed teaching her the basics of self-defense, but they had quickly dismissed the idea altogether because as much as (Y/N) was a tough cookie, she had two left hands.

Not knowing what to do, she first decided to close the window, to get rid of the chilly draft. Then, she grabbed her massive engineering manual – surely it would hurt if she threw it hard enough? Her aim was half decent. One deep breath later, (Y/N) gathered her courage and inspected the rooms one by one. There weren’t a lot of room to inspect, granted, but going from the main living space to the bedroom was already scary enough if you considered there might be an intruder waiting for her in the dark, ready to strike.

She switched on the light as soon as the flip was within arm reach and found no one. The room was exactly the way they had left it earlier today, nothing had moved, not even the bed sheets. A long exhale crossed her lips, and she felt the tension leave her body. There was still the bathroom left, but what would a burglar do in their bathroom? There were no windows big enough to escape through and nothing of value in there.

(Y/N) dropped her manual on the bed and ran a hand through her hair to pull it back, feeling anxious beyond reason. Something was still off. Wasting no more time, she barged into the bathroom, expecting to find Peter in the shower or something of the sort, ready to demand an explanation for the way he had left earlier and then returned without a word.

Instead, what she found chilled her to the bone. The sight before her eyes made her blood curdle instantly and she dropped to her knees – not intentionally, her legs simply gave out.

“No, no, no, no,” she began to chant like a litany, a prayer to whatever god was listening.

It was Peter, but he wasn't in the shower. (Y/N) felt sick, and she barely had enough time to throw herself towards the toilet seat before retching, black spots dancing before her eyes when she emerged again.

In her precipitation, she tore a long piece of toilet paper off the roll and wiped her mouth, then looked at Peter again, horror painted over her features.

“Peter,” she whispered, hands shaking so violently she didn't dare touch him, in case she hurt him more than he already was.

He laid on the tiled floor, eyes closed – unconscious? Asleep? _Dead_? (Y/N) nearly retched again at the sheer thought. She had never seen him like this.

“Peter, please, Peter,” she cried out.

Her vision blurred slowly but she couldn't stop the tears from welling up. This was nothing like the day she had found out about Spider-Man, this was much worse. _Please, let him be alive, please, please_ , she pleaded silently.

His suit was in pieces, there was nothing to save, nothing at all. He looked as though he came out of a shredder, cut, lacerated, torn in places. Was it bloody skin or red fabric? (Y/N) couldn't tell, and she didn't ever want to know. She looked down at herself when she felt something damp on her knees and found she was sitting in a pool of blood.

She was frozen. She stared at her blood soaked bottoms, unable to move, unable to say anything, unable to form the barest coherent thought. _There's blood. There's so much blood. Peter's blood_. It was all too much for her, she felt lightheaded all of a sudden and had to gather all of her strength not to faint right then and there.

“Oh no, no, no, Peter...” she whimperd still, finally recovering her voice and trying assess the damage. “What happened to you, Peter? I told you to be careful, I told you!”

He didn't answer, but she couldn't stop the flow of words from pouring out. Then, she had an idea, and fumbled to get her phone out of her pocket, quickly placing it over his parted lips, trying not to shake too much.

(Y/N) let out a loud sob of relief upon seeing the screen fog up, a sure sign that he was still breathing. But he didn't look good at all. Apart from his severely beat up and slashed body, there was also a monstrous gash on the right side of this head, running from his temple to the back of his head, oozing blood. It was the wound responsible for the pool of blood around him.

Peter's heart might still be beating, but (Y/N)'s had stopped completely and stood still in her chest, waiting for the shock to wear off. His hair was matted in dried blood. How long had he been here? How long did she sleep while her boyfriend bled out on the bathroom floor? (Y/N) began to heave, struggling to breathe while loud sobs forced their way out of her throat in between hiccups.

“Peter, Peter wake up,” she kept on crying, pointlessly. “I'm begging you, Peter, please, please open your eyes.”

She couldn't see anymore, everything was a blur, tears poured out of her eyes and mixed with the blood staining the floor. She could see herself scrubbing Peter's blood off the tiles while bawling her eyes out later, like in a bad movie. This couldn't be real, it couldn't happen to them.

What to do? Her mind was racing. The urgency of the situation struck her so hard she couldn't even think straight anymore. But she knew that she couldn't waste anymore time now, Peter's life was on the line. (Y/N) angrily wiped the tears away and took her phone again. Crying would be for later – for when Peter wasn't on the brink of death.

It took a few tries because she was still shaking like nothing she had ever experienced before, but (Y/N) managed to call Happy at long last, not knowing what else to do. She couldn’t remove his suit like she did last time he came home bruised and battered, she might do something wrong and hurt him even more. The hospital wasn’t an option either, Peter wouldn’t want to expose his true identity.

Happy picked up because he knew her number and knew she wouldn't call at this hour unless it was important, and (Y/N) made a mental note to thank him properly later. She tried to explain what was going on as best she could, but if someone asked her, she wouldn't be able to tell them what exactly she told Happy on the phone. She knew that she cried a lot, and stuttered some incoherent nonsense, but he must have understood something among the violent sobs raking her body, or at least sense the urgency of the matter, because she said he would be right over.

(Y/N) had no recollection of what happened next. She knew only that she didn't leave Peter's side at any point up until they arrived at Stark Tower and he was taken into surgery was one Helen Cho, and Happy had to hold her back so she wouldn't follow him.

He was so pale, so lifeless. Her heart hadn't picked up again, and (Y/N) wasn't sure she would feel it beat before she was certain Peter was okay. She cried some more into Happy's shoulder. He didn't let go of her until exhaustion got the best of her and (Y/N) collapsed in his arms, cheeks stained with dried tears and eyes red and puffy.

*

Today was October 12th, it was a quarter past two in the morning and (Y/N) would never forget the date.


	3. Chapter 3

When (Y/N) woke up – she couldn't remember when or how on earth she managed to fall asleep in this situation – she was lying on a couch in what she could only assume to be the Avengers' compound, a blanket draped over her, the blinds hiding the sun. It was about ten in the morning, and she quickly rubbed the sleep away from her eyes and threw the blanket away.

She had never even dreamed of stepping into this place, let alone spend the night. But she didn't have time to gush over being in the Stark Tower, because she knew Peter was somewhere on a lower floor, half dead.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y,” (Y/N) called, hoping she worked the same as E.D.I.T.H and thanking heaven that Peter was a huge nerd who had gushed over his glasses for ages when she asked him about them.

“Miss (Y/N),” the A.I. Greeted her. “My Happy left a change of clothes for you,” she informed (Y/N).

When she looked down, she saw her sweat bottoms covered in dark, dried blood and quickly grabbed the fresh set of clothes.

“I need to see Peter,” she said, a stone dropping to the bottom of her stomach as she said his name. _Let him be alive, let him be alive_.

“Right this way, Miss.”

The panels of a seemingly normal looking wall moved to reveal an elevator and dinged when the doors opened. She stepped in and the doors closed on their own, F.R.I.D.A.Y taking care of letting her off on the right floor.

She ran out as soon as the doors opened again, and she recognized the white walls of the medical wing. Thanks to muscle memory only, (Y/N) found her way back to the surgery room Peter had been brought in, but the sign next to the door said it was currently empty.

Going back, the looked at the sign on every door, trying to find someone, anyone, who could point her in the right direction.

“(Y/N),” an all too familiar voice called her name, cutting short to her increasing panic. When she turned around, she saw a puffy-eyed May Parker standing by a door down the corridor. “He's here.”

She jogged over to her and the two women crashed into each other for a tight hug. (Y/N) heard May cry softly, but she found she could no longer shed a tear. She had cried so much yesterday, and the shock of it all finally hit her, numbing her to everything around her. She needed to see Peter.

“He'll be okay, he'll be fine,” May whispered against her head, placing a kiss on top of it. (Y/N) knew she said it for herself, she tried to speak it into existence.

“Happy called you?” (Y/N) croaked out, clearing her throat.

“As soon as you passed out,” she said with a nod, gently stroking her hair. May always showed her maternal love, and (Y/N) often wondered why she had never had kids of her own. “We're waiting for Dr Cho to tell us what's going on.”

When (Y/N) looked over May's shoulder, she saw Happy standing beside a bed, where she knew Peter laid, though she could only see the shape of his legs under the white sheets. May quickly filled her in on what she missed and told her he came out of surgery around six this morning. Dr Cho went to sleep, having earned her rest and left Peter in the capable hands of the nurses.

The three of them waited inside Peter's room, silently watching his chest rise and fall and finding comfort in that, and that alone. Because they didn't know anything else. Most of Peter's body was hidden under the sheets, but what little they could see was not reassuring at all. Half his face was bandaged up, because of the head wound (Y/N) had nearly lost her mind over, and he had obviously gotten several stitches for other open wounds on his upper body. That was without mentioning the purple bruises littering his arms, or the split lip, the small gash on his left eyebrow, or the swollen black eye.

There was a growing emptiness in the pit of (Y/N)'s stomach, and she was afraid it would consume her like a black hole. May squeezed her hand when Dr Cho entered, holding a pad in her hand with a few papers on it, startling (Y/N) out of her daydream.

“Let me put your worries to rest,” the doctor started, walking around the bed and taking a small flashlight out of her pocket to inspect Peter's eyes. “The surgery went well, I was able to stop the bleeding and stitch him up without causing any brain damage, and his vitals are good.”

Happy stood beside May now, and (Y/N) drank in Dr Cho's every word.

“That said, he sustained a great number of superficial wounds all over his body, and it will take time to heal, superpowers or not. It's difficult to assess the full extent of the damage his head wound has done since he hasn't woken up. This is the bad news: Peter has fallen into a coma.”

Her face became serious, and she stopped her examination of Peter to look each of them in the eye, meeting their distressed gazes with a neutral face.

“A coma?” May croaked out. (Y/N) could tell by the sound of her voice that she was close to crying again, while she did not even feel the usual tingle behind her eyes.

“Yes. It's the body's natural response to the physical trauma,” she explained. “As long as he doesn't wake up, I cannot do anything else. I have treated every other wound. He’s lost of lot of blood,” Dr Cho said and paused, then looked at (Y/N). “We don’t know how long he stayed on your bathroom floor before you found him, but he was in severe condition when you brought him in, and his head wound must have sent him in shock.”

“How much blood?” (Y/N) squeaked out, feeling her throat tighten to the point of discomfort. It was her fault. If she hadn't fallen asleep...

“Enough,” was the only answer she got out of Dr Cho. “I’ve transfused him blood, so he should regain some colors very soon. He does also appear to have several shattered ribs and a broken cheekbone too, but there’s no internal damage, which is good.”

The list of bruised, cut, shattered and broken body parts Peter had made (Y/N) want to vomit all over again, and she hadn't even eaten or drunk anything in over sixteen hours.

“What can we do now?” Happy asked the doctor just as she was about to leave.

She stopped in her tracks and showed them the shadow of a smile – a sad one.

“It's out of ours hands now. Peter will wake up when he's ready.”

*

(Y/N)'s finger tailed along Peter's arm, following the veins running from his wrist to his elbow, lost in her contemplation. It felt like she hadn't moved in forever. She vaguely remembered Ned and Betty coming by to see Peter, but they didn't stay for most than a day – she thinks – because Peter wasn't technically family and they couldn't leave work on ground that a friend was in a coma.

God knew how long coma could last, no one could get off work for this long. (Y/N) saw them off – she thinks – and it was only her and May again. Happy came and went again, checking in whenever he had a chance, and making sure the psycho who had put Peter in this bed would get what he deserved.

(Y/N) didn't care. (Y/N) didn't care about anything. She barely found enough strength to look away from Peter, let alone care about other things. Sometimes she went to the bathroom attached to this room, and that was it.

May had to bring her food or she would forget to eat altogether. It had been days now, but (Y/N) couldn't tell how many because she hadn't moved, she hadn't slept properly, she hadn't watched the news since the first day.

She had been sitting still on a wooden chair next to Peter's bed, eyes fixated on the TV screen hanging on the wall across from the bed. She had clutched Peter's hand in hers, like she had been doing for the last few hours – she wasn't even sure she could move it anymore – while listening to the news.

They had gotten him. The criminal Peter had been chasing for days and days, they got him. The police found him tied to a lamp post, covered in blood that wasn't his, and knocked unconscious on the same night Peter came back half dead. (Y/N) had smiled when she heard the anchorwoman say that he had been arrested, she had turned towards Peter to celebrate the news, but reality had hit her like a ton of bricks.

Peter wouldn't be celebrating his latest arrest any time soon.

Feeling ill again, (Y/N) had turned off the TV and unplugged it, for good measure, and since then, the hours spent in Peter's room had been silent for all of them. May didn't sleep here but she came in the morning and left late at night. She brought yarn with her and knitted, or a book to read, or pictures to look at. She had tried to show (Y/N) the album she brought on the fourth day, but (Y/N) merely stared blankly at the pages, as if she couldn't see the pictures at all.

May hadn't tried to gain (Y/N)'s attention anymore after that, she merely made sure she was fed and got some sleep. She slipped a sleeping pill in (Y/N)'s coffee on the fifth day because the girl looked a fright! She hadn't had any shut eye in days and her eyes were dry and red because she stared at Peter all day long, wordlessly urging him to wake up. He needed to wake up.

On the seventh day, May saw a change in (Y/N)'s behavior. It was as though she received an electric shock – or perhaps the lack of food and sleep was getting to her finally. She stood up, and took her phone, and she spent the day answering all the worried text messages she and Peter had received since he came here, she also called their faculty and internship supervisors to keep them updated.

“Yes, yes I know,” she said in her phone, her back turned to May.

Her voice sounded fake, it was a customer service voice, May noted, eyes darting from her knit-work to the young woman's back. She knew (Y/N) was on the brick of insanity, she was driving herself mad with worry and her health suffered from it too. She bore dark circles under her eyes and her cheeks were hollow.

“I'm sorry about that, I know I should have called but I barely leave the hospital room,” she sighed in the phone, clearly arguing with her supervisor about her prolonged absence from work. “I'll come back as soon as I can, and I will catch up on my work. No, I-”

May waited, curious to see what she was going to say to this person who so clearly had no idea what (Y/N) currently endured.

“Well I'm sorry if it's an inconvienience to you, but like I said, I will not be able to come back to work as long as my _fiancé_ hasn't recovered from his accident. What's so hard to understand? Would you go to work if your wife's life was in danger?!” (Y/N) shouted in the phone, holding it away from her ear and simply yelling the words to the screen. “Have a good day!” she snapped before ending the call.

May's eye slit up and she stood up, leaving aside her knit-work.

“Honey, don't let it get to you,” she went and took (Y/N) into her open arms, rubbing her back when the young woman buried her head in the crook of her neck. “Everything will work out, you'll see. Peter wouldn't want us to lose hope so soon. We have to believe he will wake up.”

“I know, I know this,” (Y/N) hiccuped. “But it's so hard. I don't know how much longer I can do this- I- I feel like I'm holding my breath, and I just- I can't breathe, May. I can't- I can't breathe.”

(Y/N) was slowly crumpling down, her breathing becoming uneven and sharp. May recognized a panic attack when she saw one and held (Y/N) in her arms, lulling her gently and whispered reassuring words into her ears while she gave in to the daunting sadness crushing her heart. A dam broke inside her, and the tears began to flow again, and she cried and cried and hiccuped against May's flowery blouse, wishing her own mother was here with her.

“Shh”, May said in her ear. “It will be fine. I know my Peter, and I know he won't abandon you, he'll fight to come back to you,” she told her in a soothing voice before pulling away.

(Y/N) had calmed down a little, only silent tears ran down her cheeks but she had regained her breath and her body had stopped shaking. May tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“You need to go home, honey,” May told her, meeting stubborn refusal. “You haven't had a full night's sleep in a week now, you'll end up in a the hospital if you don't take care of yourself.”

The rational part of her brain knew that, but how could she leave Peter? How could she leave her boyfriend alone in this sterile place, between these lifeless white walls while she was in their home?

“Oh, please don't cry anymore.” May pulled her in again and wrapped her arms around her. “He'd hate for you to torture yourself like this. You know it's not your fault. The one responsible has been arrested and will answer for his crimes.”

“It is. It is my fault. I should have stayed awake, then I would have been there when he needed me. Instead I let him bleed out on the floor, like a- like a-” a hiccup again, and she burst into tears once more.

“No, no, you can't think like that. You just fell asleep, it happens! No one could have predicted what happened that night. Peter leads a dangerous life, and you have nothing to do with this.”

There was no point in arguing. (Y/N) knew she was at least partly responsible for Peter's current state. If she had woken up a little sooner, maybe...

“Please, just go home. Have a bath, go to sleep, eat a real meal,” May urged her. “If anything new happens, I'll call you right away, I promise you. But in the meantime, do not come again until you've had at least ten hours of sleep. You need to rest.” She tucked another wayward strand of hair behind (Y/N)'s ear, who, like an obedient little robot, nodded.

She took her jacket that she's threw on over her sweats the day Happy brought them here, and was about to leave when May spoke up once more.

“Oh, and honey!” she called her. (Y/N) turned around and saw her smile. “I'm so happy for you two. Peter finally proposed, huh? I know he was waiting for the right time to ask you, I'm glad you said yes.”

Swallowing thickly, (Y/N) tried to reciprocated the smile, but quickly turned around to leave, before May could see the horror on her face.


	4. Chapter 4

(Y/N) and Peter were good neighbors. They were quiet neighbors. They didn't listen to loud music into the early hours, they didn't get into shouting matches, they didn't bang pots and pans together at all hours of the day.

For the first time since they moved into their apartment, (Y/N) startled their neighbors. She had spent the entire trip back biting down on her lower lip until she drew blood and spacing out. She had climbed the stairs of their building without a word, and gently closed the door and locked it behind her once she was inside.

Then, she screamed. She screamed at the top of her lungs, covering her ears with her hands and squatting on the floor, curled up in a ball – she screamed. She screamed because it was the only way she knew to finally let out all the pain that built up inside her. All the rage and pent-up frustration. She was so useless! Peter spent his time saving the world and she was useless! She couldn't even save him when he needed her the most.

All she could do was make phone calls. She called to let everyone know of the situation and not to expect neither Peter nor her until he was better. She had called his boss to let him know what was going on, and he had been sorry to hear the news, he wished him the best and a soon recovery. And she had called her own boss, much less sympathetic than Peter's, and told him not to expect her because she was going to stay with him until he woke up.

He dared to tell her that it wasn't a family emergency, and (Y/N) had lost it. She had screamed in her phone, telling him that her fiancé was on the brink of death and that she would not set foot outside the hospital before she knew he was out of danger.

She didn't think about, she just said it. It was a white lie, one her boss couldn't question or verify. But May was there.

" _I'm so happy for you two."_

Her words echoed in (Y/N)'s head, bouncing off the walls of her skull.

" _I know he was waiting for the right time to ask you, I'm glad you said yes."_

Yes? Yes to what?

" _Peter finally proposed."_

No, no he hadn't. May couldn't know he hadn't, and (Y/N) shouldn't know he wanted to. She would have rather not heard that at all. How much more tears could she cry? How long until she finally ran dry and could rest?

All she wanted was to rest... she wanted to go to their room, find Peter's sprawled on their bed,shirtless as usual, and lay her head on his chest, making him chuckle. She would close her eyes, and Peter, thinking she was asleep, would trace patterns on her naked shoulders, and whisper that he loved her.

(Y/N) wanted the hollowness in her chest to be gone. She wanted Peter to wake up so they could go back to their life. She wanted him to have a chance to propose for real.

When she found the strength to stand up, she thought their apartment had never looked so bleak, not even before they moved in and cleaned it. Everything was just like she had left it, except for one thing. She didn't need to check to know the blood was gone. Happy must have taken care of it first thing after Peter came out of surgery.

As expect, the bathroom looked pristine – even more than before. (Y/N) slowly stripped of her dirty sweats and threw them in the laundry basket. It was brimming with clothes, she would need to go to the laundry room so that Peter had something to wear when he would come back.

She didn't know how, but (Y/N) somehow ended up in the shower, and then in the kitchen, where she managed to cook a quick meal with whatever hadn't spoiled during her absence. She would also need to go grocery shopping, they would need eggs. She would make Peter scrambled eggs with bacon. It was his favorite breakfast.

Without really thinking about it, (Y/N) slipped into autopilot and did exactly what May asked her to do. She took care of herself, brushed her teeth after eating, washed the dishes, tidied up a bit because she couldn't stand disorder, and when she felt she was going to pass out, she huddled on the couch, refusing to sleep in their bed without Peter.

*

(Y/N) and Peter had moved into their place on the 1st of August a year and a half ago, and she remembered it like yesterday. Finding a decent apartment within one's price-range in New York city was as arduous as one would expect. Therefore, they didn't think too long about whether or not to sign the papers, they simply did.

The place was not decent in any way, and they would have to put some serious work into it if they wanted to live there. And that's what they had done. The first week, they still crashed at May's place, sleeping in Peter's narrow one-person bed. They didn't have _anything_ , least of all money, because they poured everything into cleaning supplies and fresh paint. The placed needed it more than they needed a flat screen TV or a subway card. A makeover was required before they could even think about bringing in furniture.

For one week, they spent all of their free time there, sweating in the Summer heat, scrubbing this place clean of mold, and stains, and other things they didn't want to know the nature of. They repainted the whole place wearing old sweat shorts and a sports' bra for (Y/N) because it was too hot to wear anything more than that.

May had bought them a fan because she took pity on them, and Peter had draped a wet towel over it so it blew cold air. Every five minutes he caught (Y/N) standing in front of the device, arms wide open, letting out a contented sigh.

"Get to work, will you?" he had told her with a little smack on the ass, making her jump and yelp in surprise. Every day until nightfall, they worked together to make this place their new home, then they grabbed two beers and sat on the roof to enjoy some cool air.

Once the paint was dry, they started moving in. They still had nothing, but they made do. During their first night, they had slept on a mattress they got from a friend who just moved. May had given them old bed sheets she didn't use anymore. They had bought a fridge on Craig's list and hoped it would last until they could afford a brand new one. In the living room was a coffee table they found in the street, and it was surrounded by mismatched garden chair pillows so they had something to sit on with their friends when they had their house-warming party.

They had slept like babies and woken up with the morning sun since the blinds were broken and needed changing. The rays hit Peter's back, and (Y/N), who had woken up early, let her hand rest on his back muscles, feeling his warm, sun-kissed skin under her palm.

She remembered the process of making this their home; of slowly bringing life to this place, filling it up with their belonging and with memories. They had struggled at first – neither of them was particularly good at handiwork, but they had had to learn, and fast too.

There were three shelves on the wall across their bed, and (Y/N) still cringed at how much time it took them to put these into place.

"Stand back, will you?" she had asked Peter. She just measured – again – and drew line son the wall – again – and was now holding the shelves in place for Peter to see if they were horizontal.

If they fucked up once more, they would have to repaint that wall what with all the pencil marks they had drawn on it.

Peter stood on the bed and took his chin between his fingers, squinting his eyes as he evaluated their work. (Y/N)'s arms were tiring real quick.

"So?" she urged him. "Can we drill them in or what?"

Another moment passed.

"Well, at least they are parallel," Peter concluded in a most unhelpful manner.

"For goodness's sake!" (Y/N) rolled her eyes. "Come here and hold these, I want to see for myself."

They switched places and after determining that they were good, (Y/N) came back with the drilling machine and secured the shelves in place while Peter held them up – of course his arms didn't tire as quickly as hers from holding a few pieces of wood against a wall. With that done, they began to take their various belongings out of their boxes to set them on their new shelves.

"What's that?" Peter had asked, pointing at a wooden box sitting on the highest of them.

(Y/N) looked up from her laptop and over her glasses, following his finger.

"Oh, that just decoration. It's a birthday gift my dad brought from his trip to the Caribbean, you know how much I love handmade stuff," she told him offhandedly.

"What's in it?"

"Nothing." (Y/N) shrugged. "I just like having it here, it looks like a treasure chest."

"You'd only put gold and gems inside?" Peter teased her, encircling her with his arms and sneakily taking away her laptop, kissing her to distract her from her work.

"Exactly," (Y/N) laughed, unable to resist his neck kisses. "It's gonna stay empty for a while I think."

*

Waking up with a start, sweat on her brow, (Y/N) shot up, panting. It was bright outside, what time was it? She had slept through half the day, most definitely. But she didn't lose time checking her phone, she stood up, nearly tripping over her own feet and burst into their bedroom, grabbing the little stool in the corner and using it to get her treasure chest.

When the little wooden chest was in her hands, she could already tell something was inside: it was slightly heavier than normal. She had never put anything in that chest, ever. She had a hard time swallowing, afraid that she was right. She knew she was right though, she simply knew.

That dream came out of nowhere but her subconscious must have sent it to her for a reason, and now she knew with absolute certainty what she would find inside. When she opened it, there it was.

The small velvet box.

She dropped it. The wooden box clattered on the floor, closing itself. It was true. May had said the truth, Peter really meant to propose. He wanted to marry her, and now he was in a fucking coma! (Y/N) shook her head, refusing to let her thoughts wander on this slippery slope leading to self loathing. She fumbled in the dark and picked up the chest with the box inside, placing it back on its shelf without opening it. Whatever it contained, she would wait for Peter to give it to her. She owed him that.

Suddenly, her phone rang from the other room, the volume of the ringtone nearly sending her into cardiac arrest. It was the alarm clock she set. It was only ten after all.

With a sigh, she left the room, and locked herself in the bathroom to get ready. It was time to go see Peter again.


	5. Chapter 5

Every day, Dr Cho or a nurse came by to check on Peter's vitals, change or remove some bandages, then scribbled down some notes that nobody could understand without a medical degree, and left again, not sparing May, (Y/N) or Happy a single glance. Did they teach that in medical school? Avoid the suffering relatives' eager stares so they don't ask questions you don't have answers to?

(Y/N) was bitter. May thought it was progress since last week she hadn't shown any sign of feeling a single emotion other than abysmal despair. She had come back twelve hours after she left, wearing clean clothes, her hair washed, the pink back to her cheeks. It was progress.

But she refused to leave again. Happy ended up bringing her a change of clothes every other day, and May sometimes forced her to go upstairs and take a shower in the Avengers' compound or a nap. (Y/N) was a patient person – she was – but concern ate away at her like a disease.

Ned had dropped by again, with a 'get well soon' card signed by most of Peter's friends – at least all those Ned also knew – and a frankly creepy-looking teddy bear holding Captain America's shield.

“They didn't have a Spider-bear,” he had explained when (Y/N) took it in her hands, rubbing the fluff of its head.

“I'll make sure to tell him,” (Y/N) sniffled, setting the plush down on the bedside table along with the card.

Neither of them were in the mood for banter, but they managed a smile. Ned talked the day away, rambling about this and that – (Y/N) didn't pay much attention to what he said, but she appreciate his uplifting presence and liked that he didn't wait for an answer. He just wanted to see his best friend for a bit, and try to cheer up (Y/N) while he was at it.

Despite his being in a coma, Peter still healed fast and soon, most of the cuts and bruises were gone. They even took off the huge bandage around his head, revealing a prominent but already healing wound well on its way to disappearing completely. They took out the stitches the day before, and suddenly, he looked awfully normal.

(Y/N) couldn't understand how Peter could look so normal, so like himself, yet be anything but.

Dr Cho had made herself scarce but (Y/N) managed to find her and ask her if things had progressed at all.

They hadn't. She told her with a compassionate smile that his body had healed at an astounding speed but patients in a coma did not simply wake up when their body had recovered. Armed with nothing but patience and endless love and despair, (Y/N) returned to Peter's room and sat nothing of her exchange with the doctor to anyone.

Ned, May and Happy were the ones trying to lift up her moods, who was she to shoot them down?

*

(Y/N) still held onto Peter's hand like it was her lifeline. She thought his fingers were a bit cold and stiff, but it was nothing to worry about, the nurse who came in today said. It happened to anyone who didn't move for a while.

Even if she had wanted to, (Y/N) couldn't have let go. If she tried hard enough, she could imagine Peter slowly squeezing her hand, and when she looked up, he would be staring a her with an apologetic, boyish grin, sorry for causing her such trouble.

A shaky breath came out of her mouth. No one noticed, because she was alone with Peter. May had stopped spending her days here. She had to go back to work at some point. (Y/N) also suspected May was avoiding her a little after she revealed that Peter had, in fact, not proposed, and she only said he was her _fiancé_ to get her boss off her back.

And while (Y/N) had shouted at her internship supervisor that she wouldn't leave Peter's side until he woke up, she soon realized that it wasn't a realistic course of action.

Dr Cho had told her there was no way to know how long a coma would last and (Y/N) wasn't naive enough to think she could put her entire life on hold for anyone. Reality would soon catch up.

To her surprise though, Pepper had called her to check on Peter, hear if there was any change in his condition. She and Morgan still lived outside of NY, in their cabin where they had last been with Tony. She bought (Y/N) some time, took care of all things financial for the month to come, rent, bills, whatever there was, so she could stay with Peter.

“It's what Tony would have done,” Pepper had told her. “If you need anything at all, please call.” She sounded so awfully calm, as if she had had to deal with such dreadful affairs before. (Y/N) wished she hadn't. “Peter is family.”

Yes, Peter was family. Once upon a time, when (Y/N) and Peter were still mere friends who had met in freshers, they had approached the touchy subjects of the five years where half of humanity had been snapped away.

He had told her with this far-away look in his eyes that he was one of those who disappeared, that he had felt himself vanish while his dad held him, watching, powerless, as Peter turned to dust in his arms.

It was only months later, after (Y/N) found out the truth, that she put two and two together. Peter had lost his father when he was very young, then he had to bury his uncle while he was in high school. Tony Stark was the only father figure present in his life after that, the one who guided him on his new path and made him who he was now.

When she had asked him again about that, Peter had turned beetroot red and stuttered out something incoherent, then dashed out of the room because “his phone was ringing”.

“There's nothing to be embarrassed about!” (Y/N) had called after him, giggling while he pretended to have an animated conversation with Ned on the phone.

“Sorry darling, but Ned really needs my help with something.”

Then, he had locked himself in the bathroom for an hour, pretending to be on the phone. (Y/N) tipped her hat at his dedication to making her believe this sudden and oh-so convenient phone call was real.

(Y/N) stood behind the bathroom door and knocked gently.

“Peter?” she called him, getting no answer. “I know you miss him a lot. If you ever want to talk about him, even if I still don't understand everything that went on with you and the Avengers, I'll listen.”

Another minute of silence passed before the door unlocked, and creaked open. (Y/N) slipped a hand through the opening and peeked inside, finding Peter sitting on the closed toilet, head between his hands. She heard him sniffle and immediately joined him, sitting on the floor between his legs.

“Hey,” (Y/N) cooed softly, attempting to comfort Peter. She grabbed one of his hands to see his face, and brought it to her lips, placing a kiss on his knuckles. “You don't need to hide from me.”

“I know, I know...” He pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to slow down the flow of tears. “It's just- It's been years now, how much longer will you put up with me if I keep crying about the same thing?”

It was obviously meant to be a joke but (Y/N) heard the familiar ring of truth behind the playful façade Peter put up for her sake. (Y/N) bit down on her lower lip, hating to see him like this but not knowing what to do to make him feel better. She was usually good at making Peter feel better, but it was always harder when he was upset because of something Avengers-related.

It simply wasn't her world, she didn't belong in it, she didn't even have a foot in the door, it was simply foreign territory to her. In times like these, she wished she had an armored suit, or a vibranium arm, or even just insane hand-to-hand combat skills so she could be part of Peter's world too.

“I've never met Tony Stark, you know that,” she started, standing up and forcing Peter to look up to meet her eyes. “But after spending years by your side, hearing you talk about him... I feel like I know him a little. And believe it or not, I feel his loss too. I'll never blame you for grieving his loss.”

With her gentle touch, (Y/N) pushed back the strands that fell in Peter's eyes and wiped away a tear with her thumb, a small smile was now etched on his lips. Peter used the hand (Y/N) still held to pulled her towards him. She gasped and nearly fell, but Peter was there to catch her, and sat her on his lap.

He let his head rest against her breast while she held him in her arms.

“He would have liked you,” Peter croaked out. “Everyone would have liked you.”

*

(Y/N) had asked Friday to wake her up if anything happened at all. May and Happy might have convinced her that it was no use staying with Peter day in and day out as long as his condition didn't change, but she wasn't just going to return to her normal life as if nothing had happened.

It was out of the question to go back to their place without Peter. She accepted to stay in one of the rooms upstairs on the one condition that she would be the first to know it anything at all happened. Seventeen days had gone by since Peter's injury, and (Y/N) wasn't coping well. She hated to be that dependent on someone else, she hated to be that girl who retreated into herself because her boyfriend wasn't around anymore, she absolutely loathed standing in this weird in-between where Peter was there yet wasn't.

The truth was that she never fully understood all these girls who claimed they couldn't live without their significant other. Neither did she see it coming when it happened to her; she just felt it. She had felt it when her entire being shattered upon finding Peter's unconscious form bleeding out on the floor, and she felt it now, lying wide awake in a bed that wasn't hers, that was too big for only one person to sleep in, that felt too foreign.

How long had it been since the last time she had willingly slept alone? Slowly, she realized her life and Peter's were intertwined more than she thought they were. If he didn't make it...

Her mind jumped back to the little velvet box, and a painful hiccup raked her body. The time of silent tears was gone for good now. (Y/N) was only shaken by violent sobs and struggled to breathe now when she thought about what lied ahead of them.

The entire floor was vacant except for her, but she still slammed a hand over her mouth to muffle the sound of her ugly cries, eyes tightly shut as if it would stop the tears from coming. She was sick and tired of crying. She was this close to enrolling in medical school and try and get Peter to wake up herself.

Sleep eluded her until not even the bottomless pit of sorrow could keep her awake anymore. She was so tired these days, and not just physically.

(Y/N) was woken up by a blaring alarm instead of the gentle morning sun kissing her face. F.R.I.D.A.Y might not be human, but she participated in her own way, tried to make life easier for (Y/N).

“Miss (Y/N),” she robotic voice called her though she was wide awake now. The alarm stopped. “As per your request I inform you that I detected a change in Mr.Parker's condition. It seems his heart rate has gone up quite suddenly.”

“Thank you Friday. Call the elevator, will you?” she managed to give the order with a surprisingly collected voice for someone whose heartbeat broke speed records and fumbled around to try and find her shoes.

“Already done, Miss.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y turned on the light so she would see what she was doing but it only served in blinding (Y/N). Damn her shoes, she wasn't going to leave the building anyway.

She ran out of the bedroom and into the doors of the elevator, waiting open for her. The ride was _endless_ , even though (Y/N) knew this was the fastest elevator in all of NY. She headed to Peter's room, dashing through the corridors, running barefoot on the linoleum, a haggard look on her face.

When she finally burst through the door, her heart stopped altogether.

Peter was sitting on the bed, clutching at the railing and looking relieved to see her, although she must have looked a fright.

“(Y/N),” he rasped out, frowning when he heard the sound of his own voice, husky from lack of use. “Where are we?”


	6. Chapter 6

(Y/N) didn’t believe her own eyes, and by the time the initial shock wore off, the room was stormed by nurses who came to check on a very confused Peter. They made him lie down again and he resisted at first, trying to keep eye-contact with (Y/N) who still stood there like a statue.

What was wrong with her? She shook her head and quickly went to stand at the end of the bed so she wouldn’t be in the nurses’ way. They asked Peter questions, pointed a small light into his eyes to check his pupillary response, scribbled down unreadable notes and checked the machines he was connected to.

“What’s happened?” Peter asked again, panic slowly rising in his chest as so many people flooded into the white room and began to touch him. “(Y/N)! What’s going on? Are we at the hospital?”

“You’re at Stark Tower, kid,” answered the oldest nurse, flipping through his file. “You gave that one a real scare, you know? You ought to be more careful out there.”

She shook her head with a disapproving pout on her lips, as if she had had enough with patching up reckless superheroes who didn’t think twice before jumping headfirst into a fight. Peter’s frown deepened.

The nurses took the needles out of Peter’s arms as he would no longer need to be fed and hydrated through IV now that he was awake, and after a last few health checks, they left as quickly as they came. But not before the older nurse told Peter to stay on this bed until morning when the doctor came in, or so help her…

Once alone, (Y/N) and Peter stared each other down, eyes wide with confusion and emotion. It was clear that Peter had many, many questions, and she just stood there like a mute idiot.

“Peter,” she said, a wave of relief slowly hitting her now that she could once again stare into his eyes.

Yet another sob threatened to come out of her mouth, so she clasped her hand on her lips, trying to keep it in but doing a terrible job. Her eyes watered up so quickly she didn’t even have the time to try and swallow the tears.

Her feet finally moved and she found herself crashing into Peter, half sitting on the bed to hold him in her arms, barely able to contain her joy and not squeeze the life out of him – that would have been a shame after everything they went through. To be frank, she counted on the fact that his body sustained no more injuries at this point, because every part of her yearned to be in his arms and never leave again.

“Sh, shh,” Peter whispered, stroking (Y/N)’s hair while she cried on his shoulder, wetting his hospital gown. He would want to get out of that as soon as possible, she should call May to tell her the news and ask her to bring clothes. “Please don’t cry, (Y/N). Whatever happened, it’s over now. I’m here…” he soothed her gently, not even sure she could hear him over her own cries.

“I thought you would die for real this time! I thought you were going to die,” she kept repeating, not letting go of him and rocking them slightly.

Peter was at loss. What on earth happened and why was (Y/N) so upset? When looking around him, he thought he was in a hospital, so he must have been seriously roughed up to end up here. He hated being the reason why she cried...

“I thought I’d lost you,” she sobbed, trying to calm down the waterfall. “I really thought- I thought-“ she hiccuped, unable to go any further. “I was so scared, Peter. Never do that again!”

The rational part of her brain told her that he didn’t even know what he had done, but the words simply stumbled out of her mouth of their own free will, she had no control anymore. Her hands clung to Peter and she couldn’t string together coherent words, but she was so utterly happy and relieved that she simply could not find it in herself to give a damn.

“I promise, (Y/N), I promise,” Peter swore, pulling away just enough to meet her tearful gaze so she would know he meant it. He brought a hand up to wipe away some tears from her rosy cheeks. “I’m so sorry I made you worry.”

He held her face in the palm of his hands, thumbs lightly brushing away the last tears rolling down her cheeks, feeling her regain some composure now that he was out of danger. He had no idea what he did to put (Y/N) in such distress, but he didn’t need to know to vow he would do everything in his power to never let it happen again.

Seeing her like this was a stab in the heart. Peter thought he must have really messed up this time because she was usually pretty good at staying calm and collected when he came home injured. His memory was blurry, but he remembered finally managing to stop the villain he was after…

His head shot up.

“The villain!” he exclaimed, making (Y/N) frown a bit. “I fought with him, I webbed him to a streetlight. The police-“

“They found him,” she assured him, wrapping her hands around his wrists to put them in her lap. “He won’t hurt anyone anymore now. They put him back in his cell.”

“Back?” Peter asked, even more confused.

“Yes, he was a fugitive. He escaped from his prison in Florida, nobody knows how yet and he won’t speak. Last I heard, they sent him back and placed him in isolation,” she informed him. She hadn’t watched the news again since the first day, but Happy had made it his duty to tell her what happened to Peter’s attacker.

“I know how he did it, and how he kept evading me!” Peter suddenly told her. “He had this device that made him invisible. I managed to take it from him, but not before he-“

Peter paused, eyes getting unfocused and (Y/N) shuffled closer, still holding his hands.

“Peter?”

He slipped a hand out of her grasp and touched the spot on his scalp where his head wound had been. All gone now.

“-not before he shot me,” he concluded. Then, his eyes darted on (Y/N) again, plunging in her concerned gaze. “Tell me what happened.”

*

“For once in your life, Peter, just let me carry the fucking bags.” (Y/N) rolled her eyes and shook her head when Peter pouted at her, obviously not too happy about being treated like a cripple.

“I’m fine though, I swear!” he argued, flexing and doing a squat to prove his point. “Look! Like new.”

“You _just_ woke up from a nearly three-week coma, will you quit it?!” she snapped, not actually mad but trying to sound stern to make him stop his shenanigans. “You’ll give me a heart attack!”

That seemed to work. Peter bit his lip and put his hands in his pockets, pretending to kick a rock on the ground.

“I’m really sorry, (Y/N). I never thought something like this would happen…” he apologized for the thousandth time since he woke up a week ago. He had been ridden with guilt ever since.

It had been a wild week, for both of them, but the worst of it were the first twelve hours. Peter might have been sleeping around the clock for weeks, buthe could already feel the familiar drowsiness coming back. His body was tired from all the healing it had done, and he couldn’t pretend he didn’t need the rest. He hadn’t worn his new suit since he came back.

Granted, (Y/N) was keeping it under lock until she decided he was well-enough to go back on Spider duty. Peter thought it unnecessary. First, he wouldn’t risk his own life again so soon after barely making it out alive from a fight, and two, he wouldn’t go against (Y/N)’s wish if it put her mind at ease. Peter didn’t know what he would have done if the roles had been reversed.

But to have his girlfriend carry up the stairs the huge bags of groceries that he knew were very heavy and the straps hurt her fingers, that was taking it too far. She simply wouldn’t let him do anything that could exert him.

Then again, he should feel lucky he got to go home with (Y/N), because if it had been aunt May… She went properly crazy when (Y/N) called her the morning after he woke up – he had coaxed her into waiting until sunrise to call his aunt, because he didn’t want her to travel all across New York in the middle of the night. And to be entirely fair, she did not put up much of a fight and they stayed huddled on his small bed, holding onto each other for dear life.

May had cried, yelled, cried and yelled at the same time. There were tears and smiles and Peter didn’t know whether she was mad at him or happy. But he, for one, was happy to see three of his favorite people gathered in this room. May had sat on the other side of his bed, opposite (Y/N), and they all engaged in a long conversation about his recklessness and the fact that he needed to be more mindful of his own safety – for their sake if not his.

They also gave him the Captain American teddy bear that Ned brought for him, and Peter laughed, but not as much as when he saw the card that went with it. It had a sad puppy on the front and on the inside there was a single sentence in comic sans: You gave me a big spook! It was surrounded by notes and get-well soon messages from his friends.

Then, Dr Cho arrived and asked them to exit the room while she performed the last exams. Not even half an hour later, he was free to go. (Y/N) had gone back upstairs to get her things and said that she would meet them at the door.

Peter received his second big, bad news of the day right then. All he had wanted was to get out of his hospital gown – how could something so minimal be so uncomfortable? - finally put on some normal clothes and go home to sleep for two days straight.

But May had other plans.

“(Y/N) knows that you want to propose,” she blurted out as soon as the door closed on (Y/N). Happy had left too, preparing the car for them.

“What?” Peter squeaked out, the sound coming out of his mouth barely recognizable as his voice. Had he heard right? “Come again?” No, it was definitely his voice, only it had gone up several octaves.

“It’s a minor slip-up, she took it well!”

Far from reassuring Peter, this only made him lose some colors.

“You’re not going to faint, are you?” May asked, fists on her hips, looking extremely unimpressed. “You’re Spider-Man, get it together.”

“You told my girlfriend I was going to propose to her while I was in a coma?” Peter grumbled through his teeth – no need to speak any louder, if anyone else found out, he would really faint, if only to get out of this awkward situation. “How did it happen?”

May began to ramble about how she overheard (Y/N) on the phone with her boss, “who was very unpleasant from what I could tell,” she said, already drifting away from the subject. Apparently, he was giving her a hard time about not going to work and staying by his side, so she yelled at him something about his wife being at the hospital and what _he_ would do then?

“But the point is, she told him you were her fiancé. So, of course I jumped to the conclusion that you had asked her-“

“You did not.” Peter sucked in a breath, not ready to hear what came next even though he already knew she did, in fact, do it.

“I congratulated her on your engagement!” May blurted out, looking even more embarrassed and guilty as before. “I couldn’t have known she only said that because if he thought it was a family matter, he would leave her alone!”

“Oh, my God,” Peter lamented, falling back on the bed, feeling a bit lightheaded.

“This wouldn't have happened if you'd hurried up and proposed already!”

When he finally got over May’s news and got dressed before joining everyone at the front door, he could barely meet his girlfriend’s eyes _. Act normal, act normal_. Her couldn’t act normal; his girlfriend knew he had been wanting to propose for months but was too chicken-shit to actually do it.

And now they were walking up the stairs to their apartment, arguing back and forth about why he wasn’t allowed to carry the heavy groceries and had to walk behind her while she struggled.

“I feel useless,” Peter groaned, unable to help himself. He just liked to tease (Y/N) more than was good for him. “Is this what it feels like to be you most of the time? I get why you don’t like it when I go fight crime.”

“Shut up, nerd!” she countered, laughing. “Seriously, don’t make me laugh or I’m going to trip.”

They made it up without any more interruption from one recovering Peter Parker. After she set the bags on the kitchen table, she grunted and stretched until her back popped.

“See?” Peter’s voice came from behind her, and he wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her left shoulder. “Should’ve let me carry ‘em.”

“I don’t mind,” (Y/N) giggled. “Need to maintain these guns one way or another.” She flexed for him, making them both laugh, and Peter turned her around so she would face him.

It didn’t take much for Peter to get lost in (Y/N)’s eyes – they were an endless pool of trust and love. He could drown in her affection. One of her hands rested flat on his chest, right above his heart, and he wondered if she could hear it pick up speed when he leaned in to capture her lips. It never failed to fluster him just a little bit, and he thought it was a good thing.

He held her waist in his hands, feeling her back arch a little as she leaned into him, pressing her body against his while he slipped a hand under her shirt to feel her blazing skin beneath his fingertips. (Y/N) melted into the kiss, parting her lips to deepen it and quench a thirst that knew no relief since Peter woke up.

She had been so close to losing him, it was as though something inside her, a kind of hunger, awoke, along with a feeling of urgency. She simply could not wrap her mind around how close they came to catastrophe.

Peter seemed just as eager as her, if not more, to gets things moving. He stepped forward, forcing (Y/N) to walked backwards and right into the kitchen counter. Their lips parted for the briefest moment when Peter grabbed her by the thighs to pick her up and sit on her the counter, standing between her legs.

He loved the low moans tumbling off her lips when he dived on her neck, strewing hot kisses from her jaw down to her shoulder and began to suckle on her weak spot.

“Peter…” she gasped, one hand nestled in his neck, playing with the hair on his nape. She jerked her hips forward, almost falling off the counter, but Peter put his thigh between hers to prevent her from slipping.

He nearly lost his mind when he felt her start to rub herself against his thigh, little moans coming out of her mouth while Peter pushed down the strap of her top and bra to continue his ministrations.

“Let’s take this to the bedroom,” he told her, pulling away and then pressing his lips against her. He pecked her several times, enjoying the feel of giddiness radiating off her. “Dinner can wait.”

*

It was well past dinner time and they still hadn’t eaten or even prepared anything, but neither of them gave a single damn at the moment. They were too busy enjoying that pillow talk and lazily kissing each other on the bed, snuggled up, naked and content. Post-coital bliss was a thing, and nothing else mattered right now.

Peter hummed to himself, his fingers absentmindedly running up and down (Y/N)’s spine, making her shiver.

“Stop it,” she chuckled, feeling goosebumps erupt on her skin. “It tickles.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” Peter countered, smiling down at her. (Y/N) titled her head up, hand flat against Peter’s chest and chin resting on the back of it. He booped her nose, making (Y/N) scrunch it up. “You’re too adorable.”

(Y/N) bit her lip to hide her growing smirk, an idea popping in her head.

“Oh yeah?” she hummed, raising a brow. She shifted slightly to push the sheet off her and change position.

Peter’s pupils blew wider ever so slightly when she eased herself on top of him, arms crossed over his chest, chin resting on her hands. Her face was so close to his, it was too tempting not to kiss her, but she held him down, pressing a palm against his collarbone as she slowly sat up straight, straddling him.

“I’m adorable?”

Peter gulped down, mesmerized. Luckily for him, his body knew what to do when his mind went blank, and his hands found their place on (Y/N)’s thighs, digging his fingers into the tender flesh, soft under his touch.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered. He tried to sit up to kiss her now, but she still held him down.

Of course, he could have sat up if he wanted, but he wasn’t going to use his super strength on (Y/N), and in the bedroom at that! He felt quite happy being held down like he was, pinned against the mattress by his adorable, beautiful, hot girlfriend.

“Sorry, didn’t catch that,” she teased him, leaning down to let her breasts brush against his rising chest.

She was so close now, so, _so close_ he could feel her breath fanning his skin. He couldn’t resist anymore.

(Y/N) gasped and laughed when Peter wrapped one arm around her and flipped them over, hovering over her, one hand still holding her thigh up. He kissed her deeply, letting their mouths find their own rhythm and dance together.

He didn’t particularly want to, but he had to break away at some point, if only to catch their breath.

“You are so beautiful, (Y/N),” he told her, meeting her glossy eyes. “And I don’t deserve you, but I’m so glad you like me back,” he laughed, hiding his embarrassment behind humor.

(Y/N) could see the truth shine through though, and she toned down the flirting a little bit to answer.

“You’re a beautiful person, Peter,” she assured him, cradling his face. “You’re kind, funny, handsome, selfless – and most importantly you’re mine. And I’m so lucky to have you.”

The mood had shifted entirely. They untangled their limbs and Peter let her sit up on the bed, both of them basking in the setting sun, holding onto each other. Peter stared at their joined hands and interlaced their fingers, creases of worry etched on his forehead.

“You never…” he trailed off, not sure what to say or how to say it.

It had always been a touchy subject for him; some parasite thought that lingered in the back of his mind but that he refused to address. He had gotten away with it for a long time too – five years! But now, he couldn’t post-pone it anymore. (Y/N)’s own life was too intertwined with his for him to ignore the elephant in the room.

He had been selfish for too long already. No matter what (Y/N) thought of him, he wasn’t nearly as selfless as he appeared to be. If he really was, he wouldn’t have dragged his beautiful (Y/N) into his mess of a life in the first place.

She placed a finger under his chin to make him look at her, a little smile turning up the outer corners of her lips.

“What is it, Peter? I can see something’s been bothering you since you came home.” She leaned against his shoulder, placing a quick kiss there. “After what happened this past month, I can hear anything.”

“Do you ever… wish things were different?” Peter asked her, unsure.

She didn’t expect that question. In fact, she didn’t expect a question at all. Whatever was on Peter’s mind, she thought it had been something entirely different. What did this even mean? He couldn’t seriously think what she thought he did.

“I know it’s hard for you sometimes, and I kills me that I can’t do anything about it. I can’t stop being Spider-Man,” Peter continued before (Y/N) could say anything – most likely out of sheer nervousness.

“Of course you can't. You _are_ Spider-Man, you can't stop being who you are, and I would never ask you to!” she cut him off. (Y/N) fumbled around to find his shirt so she wasn’t just sitting there, butt naked, while they were having a serious conversation. “Peter, what is this-“

“Listen,” he cut her off too. “Please, just listen to me. I see that my double life impacts your life too, not just mine. And I don’t want you to feel… to feel like you have to stay with me. I don’t want to be the reason why you’re always worried or – God help me – unhappy.”

“Where is this coming from?” (Y/N) asked, no longer smiling now.

“I love you more than anything, (Y/N), and I want you to be happy,” Peter told her. He was so unequivocally, painfully honest. (Y/N) wanted to shake him by the shoulders until he stopped his nonsense. “Even if it means without me.”

“If this is a break-up speech-“

“No!” he almost shouted. “It’s the opposite, really. It’s my ‘I wanna be with you but not at the expense of your happiness’ speech.”

“I wanna be with you too.” What could she possibly say that would make him believe her? “You think what happened made me question whether or not I want to spend my life with you?”

That was it. She knew she had guessed right when she saw the way Peter flinched and looked away, sighing.

“It was so awful, Peter. You gave me the fright of my life! I didn’t know what I’d do if you didn’t wake up. I totally spiraled; ask May. I don’t want to be separated from you again, do you understand what I’m saying? I had never been so scared in my entire life. Not when the chitori attacked, not when Thanos attacked, I simply never felt the kind of fear that the thought of losing you instilled in my heart. I don't want to feel like this ever again. I can never be happy without you, so don’t ever talk to me again about leaving! I forbid you, do you hear me?” She was now full-on forcing him to look at her, holding his face between her hands, her eyes plunged in his.

“I hear you,” Peter said softly, an expression of ease suddenly relaxing his features.

Maybe she had told him exactly what he needed to hear after all. She knew Peter was like that, insecure in his own, quiet way, despite being a superhero who saved countless lives.

“I love you so much,” (Y/N) continued, placing a feather-light kiss on Peter’s lips, making him smile at the affectionate gesture. “You’re everything I could ever hope for, Peter. I won’t let you forget that.”

(Y/N) had wanted to give Peter a chance to propose for real, and while a week wasn't much time, she was changed since his injury and her patience had run out. The sense of urgency brewing in the pit of her stomach prompted her to take action.

Without a word, she pinched his chin, kissed him once more, then stood up, throwing Peter his sweatpants, silently asking him to put them on and follow her. She went into the kitchen, Peter on her heels, and opened one of the lower cabinets that was usually empty, taking out a box that she set on the table in front of Peter.

Peter hesitated.

“What is it?” He glanced at her.

“Maybe the concept of a box is flying over your head, but you’re meant to open it to find out,” (Y/N) replied, making Peter narrow his eyes at her for being so sarcastic when they were having a moment.

She shot him an innocent smile and took a few steps closer, lightly tapping the lid of the box.

“I asked Pepper if she could send a new one in one of my moments of clarity during your coma,” she said when Peter opened the mystery box, finding a brand-new suit inside, neatly folded like only (Y/N) knew how to. Heaven knows she had tried to teach him, but he was a poor student.

Peter took it out to look at it, feeling the material. He could tell it was a little different, it was like a second skin to him.

“I don’t have a ring, so it’ll have to do. It’s symbolic enough I suppose,” (Y/N) said, mouth dry but holding onto her last shred of courage to keep going.

No wonder Peter had postponed proposing to her, it was nerve wrecking.

“Men don't wear engagement rings,” he laughed before even processing her own words. It took him a second to understand, and (Y/N) witnessed the very moment he realized what she had said. “You- what?” he asked, staring at her with wide eyes. “You don’t ha-“

“Then go get mine, you dork,” (Y/N) simply answered, pushing a wild lock out of his eyes and sending him a radiant smile.

“You knew about it?”

Peter cursed himself for asking such an idiotic question when it wasn't the point at all. Then again, May had told him she knew he wanted to propose but he had thought he ring was well hidden.

“Found it in my treasure chest but I didn't open it.”

He sighed in relief as if it changed anything, and it made her smile even more. Her hand lingered on his face, just gently playing with his untamable hair, revelling in the slight blush that crept on his cheeks and the gleam of joy shimmering in his eyes.

“Marry me, Peter.”

The hardest thing she had ever had to say out loud, yet the most honest. They didn’t have to wait until he nearly died to take that step. Peter didn’t need to wait for the perfect moment to pop the question, he could have asked her over breakfast and her answer would have been the same as if he had asked her on top of the Eiffel Tower.

“You’re not- You- (Y/N)…” Peter stammered out, blushing like crazy and completely losing his ability to speak English.

With a beaming smile, (Y/N) closed the distance between them to kiss a very startled Peter. He looked like a deer caught in the headlights and she couldn’t even blame him! He most definitely did not expect her to pull the rug from under him like that – but she did.

“Marry me,” she repeated, her lips still grazing his, forehead against forehead. “Peter Parker, marry me.”

Forgetting about the box and the suit and everything else, Peter picked her up from the ground and pinned her on the fridge a few steps behind her, still not believing what was happening to him. He vaguely heard a few magnets fall and hit the wooden floor.

“You knew,” he said in between kisses, now lying on top of a giggling (Y/N). “You knew I wanted to propose…” he told her with a scolding look.

“Well, you were taking too long.” She shrugged. “One of us had to do it.”

It was impossible to be so happy! He was going to burst any minute now. His smile was so big it hurt but he didn’t even care.

“So, what do you say? Fancy spending the rest of your days with me?” (Y/N) pushed him, raising her nose just enough to eskimo kiss him.

“Let me get your ring,” Peter continued, still not answering. She was growing anxious!

Peter let her go more abruptly than planned, too caught up in the moment to think straight. He ran back to their room and to the shelf to grab the chest. He picked out the velvet box. His hands became clammy even though (Y/N) had done the hardest part already. He hoped she would like it.

He found her sitting on the counter, legs crossed at the ankle, smiling at him. She took his breath away – she was beaming, out of this world. He couldn't believe his luck. Peter went to stand before her, the small box sitting in his palm.

“Open it,” he enjoined her when she glanced at him, then the box, then him again.

With trembling hands, (Y/N) did as she was told, and covered her mouth as soon as she saw its content. Tucked between two velvet cushions was a stunning, white gold band with several engravings catching the light. No diamond, nothing too fancy, just the way she liked.

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you when I had the chance,” Peter finally spoke, finding courage in her adoring eyes. He took out the ring and held (Y/N)'s hand to slip it on her finger. They both had to laugh at how nervous they were, all shaking hands and racing hearts.

“I love you,” she told him again. She didn't know what else to say, she was at a loss. “I love you, I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Peter answered, kissing her. “And I'll marry you.”


End file.
